Iglesia, Father's Day and Farewell

Today the bishop met us at the church, and he was wearing red vestments with green sashes.  To his credit,when I suggested that he looked like Christmas and then said maybe Santa Claus, he responded that he needed a white beard, at least that's what I think he said, but then I tried to piece the sermon together with words I know like "cow" and "honey," which worked not at all.  Why, oh, WHY does my Spanish never seem to get better?  I did, however, belt out those hymns they sing with no accompaniment in voices that sound more like an alto yell than a melodic celebration.  After the service they attendees pushed back the pews, dragged a heavy wooden table into the middle of the church, and they Mayan parishioners all dumped bananas, strawberries, cookies, tomales and rolls onto it.  We were "invited" to help ourselves, but after I politely took one banana, the kids were let loose and the food was decimated rather forcefully and directly.

I didn't take many photos because it has become apparent to me that the photographing of poor people's houses is a sensational kind of tourist voyeurism that I cannot tolerate, but these cuties warranted a photo if for no other reason than to let them ogle the photo after I'd taken it.

After we left the church, it was back to the shopping that Terry and Anita do to bring back things to sell so that they can send the p rockets back to the scholarship fund here in Guatemala.  I read a startling fact yesterday that 1.6 million people come to Guatemala for mission work every year, spending 2 billion dollars to get here!  Is this a tourist racket or what?  I haven't unraveled this one yet, but I'm trying to stay positive, knowing what I know about the children, the people involved, and the two people with whom I am traveling who are wonderful, patient, kind people.  

Sunday is market day, and I went out at around 7:30 this morning to watch the people set up their stands, stuffing baby pigs into plastic satchels, carrying turkeys upside down by their feet, and hauling enormous tables, chairs, planks of wood, etc... It was a picture perfect day, and as the people were setting up, little girls sold plates of food, men squeezed juice, and tons of women clapped out their dough for tortillas.

These are Juan and Thomasita whom I met in the morning and then went back to buy a big glass of fresh orange juice from the afternoon when they were selling a woman a glass with a raw egg in it...

She gulped it right down, letting the egg yolk slide down in the first sip.

These women are all selling flowers on the steps of the Iglesia Santo Tomas where only Mayans are permitted to use the steps and the front door.  I did go in the side entrance, but I was accosted immediately by three people asking for money.

These women were clapping, clapping their tortilla dough, and I stepped up to learn how they made them while Anita took this photo.  Their aprons and dresses were so gorgeous that it was hard to believe they were working.

I am a little crazy for this town because e light and the colors change throughout the day, but here are some samples...

At the end of yesterday I took some afternoon photos before we went out for a well deserved daiquiri...

The daiquiri, the margarita and the dramboui - however one spells it - beckoned, and we wolfed down those pumpkin seeds as well after having visited a good ten family houses to talk to the scholarship students, an utterly inefficient way of meeting with them, but as I said, this may be tourist voyeurism.  Isn't all tourism a it like that though?

Tomorrow we go to Antigua, probably for more shopping (sigh.  Not my thing) but also a dinner with another bishop where I will try to be on my best behavior.  Or not.